by Aaron Pogue
"You are everything I knew you could be," he said. "All these years...." He cleared his throat and forced a smile that showed his teeth. "All these years, as much as I could think at all, I thought of you. Even buried in the dark, I thought of you."
Emotions blazed in answer, hot as embers, stoked by years of grief. And they burned too hot to trap with words. I could only stare, could only stammer, but it seemed to be enough.
He smiled down at me. He cast one more glance at Laelia, then spread his arms and caught me in a wide embrace. He crushed me against his warmth, and his body might have been carved of stone. There was no softness to it.
I gasped in the embrace, and he squeezed harder. He wrapped one hand around the back of my neck, protective, and his voice hissed beside my ear. "My son. You're...everything I hoped."
That was not my father's voice. It sounded like a serpent's. I tried to push away, to break the contact, but he was too strong. I tried to cry for help, but before I could catch breath, shadows billowed in my mind, blotting out the moonlit garden. A pain like liquid fire seared along my veins. I tried to scream, but there was nothing left of me to scream. I felt a sense of rushing, gut-twisting motion, and a weight like a mountain on my soul.
Then a moment later it was gone. Gath was gone—not destroyed, but left behind. And Laelia and my uncle with it. We had traveled by violent magics to a place dark and cramped and musty. My father let me go, and I collapsed to a rough dirt floor, barely catching myself on hands and knees. I gasped for breath while every part of me cried in agony.
Father spoke above me, emotionless. "Oh good. The sword came, too. I wasn't sure it would."
15. The New Lord of Terrailles
I lurched to my feet and stood swaying in a tiny storage cellar. The walls and floor were bare dirt, the ceiling rough-hewn timbers. My father stood near the back wall, staring down at a small pile of loose straw and a discarded scrap of cloth.
The room was barely wide enough to stretch my arms and perhaps three paces deep. There were no windows and no candles, but fire danced in little captive flames around my father's head and lit the room with eerie shadows.
Rubbish littered the floor—ancient worn-out boots and tattered rags and some short bit of wood that might have been a staff. Otherwise, the room was empty. It was no place I'd ever been before, and certainly not in Laelia's verdant garden.
I trembled where I stood. The sword lay at my feet and Father made no move to touch it. He had brought me here and brought it, too. He'd left the lady's trap.
He'd touched me. You're everything I'd hoped. He'd let me break her hold on him, then traveled far away. How far? Where?
Frantic panic clawed its way up my ribcage and scrabbled at my collarbone. I swallowed hard against it, fought for breath, and tried to think. I was alone with him. She'd warned me what would happen if her spell collapsed all at once, and it had happened when he touched me. I could not control him, and I would not kill him. What did that leave? I had to get him back to Gath before he wrought cataclysm. He was a madman.
But he only stood there, barely breathing, his eyes fixed desperately on a worthless pile of straw. He was paying me no mind at all. I stooped on shaking knees and took the sword. I saw him nod. I backed away.
He wasn't violent. He wasn't moving. But I had seen how quickly he could change. I had to keep him calm and do my best to keep him from burning down the world. Most of all, she'd said, I had to prevent him seeing Mother in the king's power.
But I knew almost nothing about him. And I had no idea where we were. I backed away, stumbled off a wall, and then fell against the other at the foot of a short, steep stairway with a heavy oak door shut at the top. Three steps up, I braced a hand against the door and heaved, but it stuck fast.
I turned in place and found my father watching me, a cruel smile twisting on his lips.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"You...you brought me here," I said. "What is this place? Where are we?"
He glanced away and smiled. "Home. A kind of home. It called to me."
"But where?" I asked. "This is not the Tower."
Something shuddered across his expression and he shrank away for a moment, but then he shook it off. "There is nothing in the Tower I can burn."
"But...but here?"
"He is here," my father said. "And perhaps his hound, too. And all the sniveling magicians he brought against me."
"The king? We're at the capitol?"
Father shrugged. "Nearby. It's difficult to cross the water, but I found a way."
"We're on the Isle, then?"
He smiled for an answer.
"Did...did you sink half the Ardain under the sea before we left?"
His smile grew into a grin, then he threw back his head and laughed. It swelled into a roar. Unconsciously I raised the sword, protective, but he saw the motion. He shook his head.
"I made that weapon as a gift."
"For me," I said.
"No. You cannot be my son."
"You embraced me as your son. That's how...how we left the garden."
"Oh." Shadows danced behind his eyes, and he shuddered again. "Forgive me. That was fifteen years ago."
I frowned. "It was...just now."
"Time moves on." A grin twisted his expression. "And you have skin like dragonhide. That's a fine legacy. The monster hoped you would."
"What monster?"
"Never mind. It doesn't matter. There's a darkness deep inside."
"Inside you?" I asked.
"Everyone. But yes. Especially in me."
"But you defeated it." I held his gaze and hid my shudder at the swiftly-shifting emotions in his eyes. "You fought it down. For Mother and for me. You won over the darkness."
He grinned and shook his head. "It ebbs and flows."
"You built a stronghold out of wasteland. You built a nation out of refugees. You forged Order from Chaos."
He licked his lips, eyes darting left and right. "What became of Lareth?"
"Lareth is dead."
"Ten years dead, at least. Yet I can recall a trick he played on me just hours ago."
"That was not real."
My father smiled, and fire flickered in his eyes. "Nothing's real but darkness, child. It's deeper than oceans and blacker than coal, and it's alive, and it wants you dead."
"But we will strive against the night. You taught me that when I could barely walk. You taught me it through Mother and through Caleb."
"Oh? What became of Caleb?"
"He is alive and well," I said. "And loyal unto death. He watches over me. And Mother. He keeps us safe."
"You're safe?" He laid the question like a trap, its steel teeth gleaming plain to see.
I nodded seriously. "You built a stronghold even Chaos cannot touch. Within the Tower, we're safe."
"Then why have we come to the Isle?"
I took a step toward him and stretched a soothing hand. "You were confused. My arrival caught you by surprise. But if you'll take us back to Gath, to the garden, I can explain everything."
"Oh, ho, ho. No. No, you will not catch me so easily. I know what waits at Gath."
"I only meant to...to fetch Uncle Themm. You remember Themmichus? But...he's probably already gone to the Tower anyway. Take us home and we'll be safe."
He blinked, then twisted left and right, searching frantically for something he didn't find. "What became of Corras and Uster? Where are Aleor and Beltas? Haven's name, stranger, where are my dragonriders?"
I couldn't answer that. Aleor had been cut down after a failed bonding, but the rest had gone with Father when he left. According to the captain from Tirah, many had made it at least as far as the northern coast. Only Father knew what had happened after that.
"What is this place?" he roared in sudden fury. "Who are you to bind me here?"
Something like a bonfire blossomed at his feet, but the flames were glossy black. They moved, alive and hungry, and he raised a threatening hand toward me.
I plunged the sword's point into the strange black fire, and the construct billowed with a drawn-out hiss. I felt the cold shadow of a burst of pain, then the fire collapsed against the blade and died.
When I met my father's eyes again, they were wide and clear. He stood staring at me, his face a mask of fear. His lip trembled. "Taryn? Is it really you?"
I sighed in relief. "It's me. I've come to bring you home. Come home with me, Father. Please. Take me to the Tower."
He hung his head. "I cannot feel the earth. I cannot feel the golden hoard. Where are my living bonds? Where is my throne?"
"Far away." I took his arm and pulled him past the shadow scar his fire had left on the packed earth. "We are far from home, but you can take us there."
He closed his eyes and took a trembling breath. He shook his head. "I never learned their magic. Not enough of it. I cannot find the way."
"You did before. You brought us here from Gath."
"Gath?" He shook his head. "No. No, no, no. Not Gath. I've never been to Gath."
I smiled. "You have. On your way to the Academy. Remember? Even I know that story. And you went back...with Mother."
He shook his head furiously this time. "No! I did not go back! I didn't burn it down! I've never been to Gath."
Something like solid ice seemed to hit me in the stomach. Not sorcery this time, but dark suspicion. I locked it away and caught his shoulders. "Very well. It's true! You've never been to Gath. But we are on the Isle now."
He began to moan, with the hints of a keening wail in its heart.
"You brought us here," I said. "You can take us home."
"I didn't bring us here. The monster brought us here. He wants to kill the king."
I stepped back, and my father seemed to wilt. Though he was barely taller than me, his frame was dense with muscle. But right now he looked small and powerless.
I sighed, considering him. "You are my father."
He looked up, almost shyly, then looked away in shame. "I have not been for years."
"No. You are my father. I...I saw the monster. And I saw something in between."
He nodded, miserable. "I have many voices."
"But this is you." I took his hand. "This is the one I need. The others are just stories told about you."
"They're stronger than me, son."
I shook my head. "No. For Mother's sake. For mine. You can be strong enough."
"Harder every day. My enemies. The world." He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. "Where are we Taryn? What's happening?"
I looked around the little cellar and shrugged. "You brought me here. You said it was a kind of home. It called to you."
He blinked at me. Then he stepped away and looked once more at the pile of straw and the threadbare scraps of cloth and ruined boots. He touched the bare earth wall and his eyes fixed on something far away. He almost smiled.
"It called to me across the living waters and through the crushing darkness. I wanted to go home."
"You know this place?"
He nodded, solemn. "I wanted to go home, but I would not allow the monster any place within the Tower." He chuckled. "So it found a memory."
"This cellar?"
"Master Jemminor's estate in Sachaerrich. I'm surprised the place survived."
I knew neither name, and Father saw it in my eyes.
He smiled. "I was a shepherd here. This was my room."
"Oh." I looked around and tried to imagine living in this little burrow beneath the earth. It wouldn't be any worse a fate than Captain Tanner's family found, buried in the sand, but this had been before the dragonswarm. This hovel had been my father's destiny, and he had made himself something greater than a king.
Let Laelia say what she would, my father had the power to change fate.
"We should head to the capital," I said, thinking aloud.
He shook his head, and something smoky crackled in his voice. "The king is there."
"And you will face him," I said. "You. Not the monster. Not the darkness. You."
"Taryn, you have too much faith in me."
"I have as much as you have earned," I said. "I have seen your madness, and I have watched you wrest control. As often as the darkness has challenged you, you have answered it."
A shadow passed behind his eyes, and I remembered what he'd said about the blackened corpse of Gath. But staring into my father's eyes, I didn't care. This was my father. This was the hero who had broken the dragonswarm. This was the good-hearted man Uncle Themmichus believed in, and I had watched my father overcome the darkness in his soul.
He was here. After ten years gone, my father was here. And Mother was not more than three days' ride away. For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe. I felt hope. We could go together to rescue mother. We could all go home.
Worry twisted in my gut, warning against this recklessness, but I took a deep breath and put it from my mind. "The dragonswarm is done. Civilization stands. Let the king live out his reign in peace, but I would have my family restored."
"Taryn, I have faced the king, and we have found the only understanding we ever will."
My mouth opened and shut twice. The lady's dark concerns still rang within my mind, but here was the man who had faced down Pazyarev. Here was the man who had cleansed the rebel army in a night of righteous fire. Here was the man who'd already twice refused to kill the king.
I looked away, and trusted him with the truth. "The king brought his army to the Tower."
My father went still at that. Still as stone.
I shook my head. "The dragonswarm is done. King Timmon is rebuilding his control, and he wanted to make sure—"
"Where is Isabelle?" Father's voice was cold.
I glanced up, nervous, but his eyes were still the same. I shrugged one shoulder. "She tried to show the king how much good we'd done. She welcomed him when Caleb wanted to defy them."
"Where is she, Taryn?"
"She went with him. Not under chains." I hurried on quickly. "Not under threat. The king invited Mother to be his guest at court—"
"Don't be naive. An invitation from the king?"
"Perhaps he meant it as more, but Mother went of her own will. To find you. She...she already wanted to leave the Tower and took her chance."
Eyes narrowed, he weighed me for a long moment. "She is with him now?"
"And Caleb with her. She is safe. I have seen it. She's safe. But this is not where she belongs. She needs you to take her home."
My father squared his shoulders. "Then we should fetch her back."
"I tried the door," I said. "It's barred. I didn't want to raise questions with a knock, but if you know the master of this place—"
"What?" he asked, surprised. "There is no bar on that door."
"Time enough to add one," I said. "But you could rip the door off with a thought."
He smiled, lips tight. "Not quite as easy as that. Not here. Not now. So much of my strength is gone."
"But...but you brought us both across a thousand miles in an instant." The laughter died on my lips at a memory of searing pain.
"That was a borrowed power, not my own. On my own, this far from my stronghold and without a brood to draw upon, I am barely more than an ordinary man."
"Where...where is your brood?" I couldn't stop myself asking it. I had no desire to provoke the darkness in his heart, but the mystery had waited in my heart so long and Laelia's cryptic words had barely satisfied. "Where are your dragonriders?"
My father looked away. "Every one of them is dead," he said. "In the little islands of the channel or out upon the Keys. In the Tali Woods. Over Three Cities...."
He trailed off. His eyes fell closed and he took a long, slow breath.<
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"I...I'm sorry to have asked."
"No. I led them into battle. Every man among them made the choice."
"And your...your dragons?"
"Pazyarev's corpse might still be burning outside Three Cities. Vechernyvetr left before that fight. He alone survives, but he's returned to centuries of sleep."
I had no answer. I could still remember the festival before they left, the gathering beneath the unbreakable gate, and the resplendent force of dragonriders he had led away. All of them were dead? The silence of a tomb settled in the little basement room and shrouded us for a time.
Then he squeezed my hand and let it go. "Even so, I should be up to opening a door." He stepped past me and into the narrow stairway.
I took up the sword and scraped the point clean against the heel of my boot, then turned back to the creak of wood and a rough rattling. I'd expected to see the flickering light of candles from the halls above, or perhaps a walled-in darkness at this late hour, but silver moonlight poured through the open door.
Father seemed surprised as well. He threw one last look back at the modest room he'd made a home, heaved his shoulders in a sigh, then went with dragging steps up and out into the night. The goodman's house had sat above the cellar room, but as I stepped through the door I found the structure above reduced to rubble. Charred timbers and roofing tiles had fallen to block the narrow door.
Some walls still stood, and the wide stone foundation offered stark defiance to the tall grasses growing thick and wild where a lawn had clearly been. I could just see the distant, artificial line where a crumbling stone wall interrupted the wild grasses.
My father stood motionless beneath the moon, nostrils flaring as he sucked down calming breaths.
I rested my hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "So many have died. How could I grieve for this one?"
He touched my hand, and too late I realized what it signified. Utter blackness swallowed me as we traveled, but this time I felt no pain. I felt a heavy wash of motion when light returned an instant later, quick as blinking, and now I stood at the heart of a village green.
This lawn, too, had been left to nature, and a dozen shops or houses stood in crumbled ruins. I thought again of Gath, of my father's dark denial, but this place reminded me far more of the wayfarer's inn on the Cara road. The place was ruined and abandoned, but Gath had been completely razed. At least here grass still grew.
